BANAGHER RHUE

Banagher Rhue of Donegal,

( Holy Mary, how slow the dawn! )

This is the hour of your loss or gain:

Is go d-tigheadh do, mhûirnín slan!

Banagher Rhue, but the hour was ill

( O Mary Mother, how high the price! )

When you swore you’ d game with Death himself;

Aye, and win with the devil’ s dice.

Banagher Rhue, you must play with Death,

( Mary, watch with him till the light! )

Through the dark hours, for the words you said,

All this strange and noisy night.

Banagher Rhue, you are pale and cold;

( How the demons laugh through the air! )

The anguish beads on your frowning brow;

Mary set on your lips a prayer!

Banagher Rhue, you have won the toss:

( Mother, pray for his soul’ s release! )

Shuffle and deal ere the black cock crows,

That your spirit may find its peace.

Banagher Rhue, you have played a king;

( How strange a light on your fingers fall! )

A voice, “I was cold, and he sheltered me...”

The trick is gained, but your chance is small.

Banagher Rhue, now an ace is yours;

( Mother Mary, the night is long! )

“I was a sin that he hurried aside...”

O for the dawn and the blackbird’ s song!

Banagher Rhue, now a ten of suit;

( Mother Mary, what hot winds blow! )

“Nine little lives hath he saved in his path...”

And the black cock that does not crow.

Banagher Rhue, you have played a knave;

( O what strange gates on their hinges groan! )

“I was a friend who had wrought him ill;

When I had fallen he cast no stone...”

Banagher Rhue, now a queen has won!

( The black cock crows with the flash of dawn. )

And she is the woman who prays for you:

“Is go d-tigheadh do, mhûirnín slan!”